


each time the feeling fades

by ohmcgee



Series: ohmcgee's mallverse [62]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, Angst, Borderline Personality Disorder, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: This was like living with a ghost.





	each time the feeling fades

The place isn’t half bad, actually. Harvey’s definitely been in worse, which is ridiculous because it’s not like he hasn’t had the money to check himself into one of these places. But then, Bruce was always better at taking care of him than he was. Still, Harvey wonders if he’d cared enough to utilize a place like this one of the other times he’d gotten himself committed if it maybe wouldn’t have come to this. Probably not, but all the yoga and fresh air have been making him dangerously optimistic. 

“Hey, Harv,” Penny, the middle-aged, red-headed nurse on duty popped her head inside Harvey’s door. “Sounds good. How’s it coming?”

Harvey looked up from his guitar, brows drawn together. “It’s shit, doc.”

“Honey, if that’s shit then I’m not qualified to even look at a guitar,” she laughed. “And what did I tell you about calling me that? Makes all the real doctors here think they have to get their dicks and rulers out, and just between you and me, I’m not sure they’re ready for me to get in on that just yet.”

Harvey set his guitar on the bed and laughed.  “Time for group?”

“Yeah,” she said, giving him a soft smile. “You know, I’m fucking proud of you.”

Harvey raised his eyebrows at her as he grabbed his shoes and slid them on. “For not punching that douchebag that took my seat at breakfast this morning?”

Penny snorted. “Nah, he woulda deserved it. Everybody knows that’s your seat,” she winked. “No, I was just thinking about how much of a pain in the ass you were about going to group when you first got here.”

“Yeah well, being fucked up on tranqs twenty-four seven has the odd side effect of not wanting to get out of bed.”

“That,” Penny said, continuing their chat as they started walking to the room the group therapy session was always held in. “And calling John a...what was it? Dicksucking bitch whore?”

“Cocksucking son of a whore,” Harvey muttered.

“Ah,” Penny grinned. “I stand corrected.”

Once they reached the door to the office Penny grabbed his arm and squeezed it lightly. “Hey, I mean it. I know how hard it’s been and the fact that you’re still here, still working your ass off, it’s amazing. I’m proud of you, but you should be really proud of yourself too.”

“Yeah, well,” Harvey gave a short laugh and reached for the door. “Still working on that one, doc.”

  
  


*     *     *

  
  


After group it was time for dinner, baked tilapia with greens and tiramisu for dessert. Harvey hadn’t eaten this good in half the over-priced restaurants he’d been to. After dinner, he went back to his room, filled out his diary card to hand in to John at his private session tomorrow morning, then picked his guitar back up. 

He thought about what they talked about in group this afternoon, about there not really being a cure, but how that didn’t mean recovery wasn’t possible. Then they talked about what recovery might look like for each of them. Penny had been right. He’d been doing pretty great with group for the last couple of weeks, but tonight when John turned the question on him, he froze up. Recovery wasn’t something that had ever seemed attainable for Harvey. It seemed like foolish optimism, like so many of the hopes and dreams he’d watched fizzle out. It felt like when you’re a kid saying you want to be an astronaut when you grow up. Sure, it’s not impossible, but it’s not  _ likely  _ either.

“Well,” John had tried another tactic when Harvey froze up on him. “What would you  _ like _ recovery to look like for you?”

The first thought that came to Harvey’s mind was Bruce. Going home to Bruce. Telling him he’s okay, he’s better, he’s not going to do that crazy shit anymore. Looking Jason in the eye and telling him how sorry he is for the things that he said, that he understands if he never forgives him, but that he deserves an apology anyway. He thought  _ I want to go home  _ and that’s when Harvey realized that for as long as he could remember,  _ home _ meant wherever Bruce was.

And it fucking terrified him. Because Bruce might have meant home to him, but he also meant a lot of other things. Bad things. Things that always started great and always ended up with him being shot up with tranquilizers to keep him from carving himself up. The worst part was that he realized that it wasn’t just Bruce either. Every breakdown he’d ever had, especially the ones that landed him in involuntary psychiatric care, all had one thing in common. Whether it was Bruce or his father, that girl he dated in law school, or the client he got too attached to when he was still practicing, Harvey’s episodes were always triggered by people.

Relationships had always been difficult for him. Too intense, like a fire that burns too bright. It starts out small, like a cute little bonfire in someone’s backyard, and ends up burning down the whole neighborhood. He’s learning that it’s part of his disorder and John’s teaching him skills to use when he feels like the fire’s getting out of hand. But it’s not easy. Some of it doesn’t even make sense to him and it makes him feel like a fucking idiot. The basic fundamentals of healthy relationships don’t make  _ sense _ to him. What the fuck are you supposed to do with that?

Practice, apparently. John says just like with any skill, it’s going to take practice. That he’s going to mess up, just like he would if he were learning any new skill for the first time. Only, if he didn’t get badminton down on the first couple of tries it probably wouldn’t ruin his or anyone else’s life.

That’s how Harvey came to his realization of what recovery might look like for him. Everyone was talking about recovery like it was their own personal happy ending. Well, Harvey’s happily ever after, all he really wanted, was to stop hurting. Stop hurting himself, stop hurting Bruce, stop hurting anyone. He entire life had been nothing but a cycle of destructive and self-destructive behaviors that had led up to this. It had to stop.

Therapy was going well and the meds they had him on this time were actually doing a pretty good job of keeping him stable, but there was only one way to recovery that Harvey knew for certain would work. Of course, he fed John some bullshit about being stable and going back to law school because Harvey knew he wouldn’t approve, but sometimes shrinks don’t know everything. Sometimes you  _ do _ have to run from your problems.

  
  
  


*     *     *

  
  


“How’s it coming?” Bruce asked for about the sixth time since Jason had gotten in the shower. 

“I got lost,” he snapped and finished toweling his hair off before stepping out into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Bruce sitting on the edge of the bed looking sheepish.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just --”

“I know,” Jay said. “You’re like this every Sunday. I promise I showered as fast as I could.”

He knew there was still a bite to his tone, but it had been hard to get rid of it lately. Ever since Harvey left, since Jason had basically been the one to  _ tell _ him to leave, things had been tense to say the least. He and Bruce had sat down and talked after Bruce got back from dropping Harvey off at the treatment center and Bruce had told him he didn’t blame him, told him Harvey apologized and claimed responsibility for everything, but in the days and weeks that followed, Jason really didn’t get the feeling that Bruce didn’t blame him. Maybe he didn’t think he did. Maybe it was some kind of weird subconscious thing. All Jason knew was that things changed. Bruce turned cold, started staying at work later and going in earlier. Jason spent dozens of night lying in bed, waiting for Bruce to come upstairs and wrap his body around his and press his lips to the back of his shoulder, like he used to.

It didn’t happen all at once. They still went to hockey games, still had Roy and Tim and Lian over for dinner on Sundays, but slowly, things between them changed. It probably would’ve helped if Jason sat down and talked to him about it, but that was even more terrifying than what was happening. Bruce didn’t look at him the same way he used to, like he was made of magic, like he was all he needed. Now, he barely looked at him at all.

“Jay,” Bruce let out a shallow sigh and stood up to hand him his shirt. “I’m--”

“You’re fine,” Jason forced a small smile onto his face to avoid whatever Bruce wanted to finish that sentence with. “Go make sure Damian’s got his stuff ready to take to Jon’s.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, frowning slightly. He reached out and tucked a wet curl behind Jay’s ear. A couple of weeks ago Jay had looked at himself in the mirror and for whatever reason, fucking hated the blue. And the red and the green and the purple and every other color he had in the cabinet. When he came out of the bathroom half an hour later, his hair as close to it’s natural black as it had been since he met Bruce, not a single drop of color in it, Bruce didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

“Where’s the blue?” He’d asked.

“Down the drain, I’d imagine,” Jason smarted back as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. “You could probably go take apart the pipes in the bathroom and see, if you’re looking for another excuse not to go to Dick’s with me later.”

That, of course, had started another stupid fight, but Jason knew it would have. At least when they were fighting Bruce was fucking talking to him.

  
  


*     *     *

  
  


“You got your phone?” Jason asked Damian before they dropped him off at Lois and Lana’s, to which Damian just rolled his eyes at him.

“I’m fifteen years old.”

“Yeah, well, last week you were trying to learn how to wield a sword and lecturing me on proper letter writing etiquette, so sometimes I forget,” Jason smirked. “Have fun. Be nice. Don’t---”

“I am  _ not _ going to do anything sexual or inappropriate, Jason. How many times do I have to tell you, I am  _ asexual _ .”

Jason raised an eyebrow at him. “I was going to say don’t tell Lois we threw out the cookies she sent home with you last week. I’m afraid of her.”

“Oh,” Damian blushed. “Okay. Um, I’m going now. Tell Harvey I said...tell him…”

Jon flew out the front door about that moment and the color in Damian’s cheeks bloomed, just like it did every single time he saw Jon. It was so cute sometimes it made Jason want to puke. “Tell him he’s going to be fine because he’s a rockstar,” Damian rattled out quickly, then grabbed his bag and headed inside with Jon.

Jay smiled as he watched him wave from the front steps, then Bruce put the car in drive and they started back on the highway.

The hour drive to the fancy rehab place Bruce had pulled strings to get Harvey into was quiet aside from the radio, but even then neither of them sang along to it. It was like being in the car with a stranger. That, Jason realized, was what living with Bruce had felt like since Harvey had gone away. It was like living with a completely different person.

At first, Jay figured it was normal to be upset, even depressed about what had happened. It made sense for everything to be a little weird for a while. But this wasn’t weird. This was like living with a ghost. Bruce barely even  _ touched _ him anymore and when he did it was so rare that it was startling. One night, Bruce finally came to bed at about two in the morning and when he tried to wrap his arms around him it woke Jason up and he shot up, totally freaked out, because he wasn’t used to it anymore. He wasn’t  _ used _ to being held by Bruce anymore.

“Do you want to go to that place afterward?” Bruce asked, turning the music down. He did this, occasionally. He tried. Only, there was never anything behind it. It was like Bruce thought as long as he attempted to talk to or touch him a set amount of times per week, like a fucking quota, then everything was okay. They were okay.  “The place with the chili dogs?”

Jason looked out the window quickly, blinking the tears in his eyes away as the sun moved behind the clouds. “Yeah. Sure.”

  
  


*     *     *

  
  


The only time Bruce ever said more than one sentence at a time anymore was when it was about Harvey. When they were going to see him, if he had heard from him, how he was doing. When they got to the treatment facility, his demeanor always changed. He seemed less lifeless, grabbing Jay’s hand and talking animatedly about how nice the place was and how good the air smelled out here, and maybe they should take a vacation to the country in the summer. It was too fucking much. 

Jason slipped his hand out of Bruce’s before they reached the door and dug his smokes out of his jacket pocket.

“You go ahead,” he said, sliding one out of the carton. “I’m just gonna grab a smoke real quick.”

Bruce frowned. “I can wait.”

Jay just shook his head. “Go ahead. I bet Harv’s waiting on you.”

“If you want,” Bruce said, leaning in to touch his lips to Jay’s temple before turning and walking inside.

Jay paced around the parking lot while he smoked. When he finished the first one, he automatically lit another, not even realizing it he was so caught up in his own thoughts. He fucking hated it out here. He’d always hated the country, but now the clean air and the fresh cut flowers and everything had the opposite effect on him than it had on Bruce. It made most people happy. It made him fucking depressed. Everything about coming here was depressing. No matter what anyone said, Harvey was here because of him and Bruce hated him for it.

Jay sat on the trunk of the car, finishing off the last of his cigarette, and watched the cars go by on the highway. He could go. Now, while Bruce was in there visiting with his first love. He could walk out to the highway and stick out his thumb, hitch a ride to wherever and do what he should have done a month ago. It would be easy.

He was getting up to either head inside or head to the highway, he hadn’t decided which, when he heard Bruce’s shoes on the pavement behind him, small bits of gravel crunching under his shoes.

“Hey,” he said, turning around to see all the color drained out of Bruce’s face. He panicked, fearing the worst. Suddenly, he hated himself even more. He should’ve went inside. He shouldn’t have been so goddamn selfish. This is all his fucking fault. “What --”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Bruce said, opening the car door and getting in without looking at him. Jason didn’t bother asking if Harvey didn’t want to see either of them or if it was just Bruce, specifically. He knew it wouldn’t matter.

They rode the entire way back to Gotham in silence. Jason didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. There were enough thoughts going through his head to keep him occupied for the hour-long drive. When they got back into the city, about a hundred feet before the turn to head to Bruce’s house, he sat up in his seat.

“Take me to my place.”

Bruce turned his head and looked at him for too long seeing as how they were in five o’clock traffic on a Saturday. “Why.”

“Because,” Jason said, looking away from the emptiness in his gaze. “I think I’m moving out.”

“Ah,” was all Bruce said, signaling with his blinker and making a left turn to take Jason home.

**Author's Note:**

> If you hadn't yet noticed, I have collected all of the parts of mallverse that I wrote into a new collection. I was going to delete them, but I had a change of heart. This series means too much to me to abandon. As for the other parts, I'm afraid I can't help you as I am no longer in contact with the author. I did, however, want to give myself and anyone who was a fan of the silly mallverse series a bit of closure. There will be one more part after this one. As the story naturally grew to become fairly centered around Bruce, Harvey, and Jason, that is what the last two parts will be focused on. 
> 
> If anyone has any questions about the fate/future of any of the rest of the gang, my mentions are open on twitter, username, you guessed it, ohmcgee. I'll be more than happy to share my thoughts about Tim&Roy&Lian or what Dick and M and Apollo get up to, or what the hell Hal fucked up this time. However, If you're rude, I'll block you. I don't have the time, I don't have the mental stability. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, who started reading this goofy trash series and continued to read when it turned into something...else. Thank you so, so much for all of your comments and kudos and bookmarks. Thank you for reminding me why I write. <3


End file.
